


fixation

by Suicix



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hair Kink, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, plotless fluff that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Wade totally doesn't have a weakness for Drew's hair. No <i>way</i>. (Except he does. He really does.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	fixation

**Author's Note:**

> as i said in the tags, literally plotless fluff. writing these losers is gonna be the death of me.

“If we ever had a match together, I swear at least half of it would be the ref telling you to _‘Get off the hair!’”_

“Oh yeah?” Wade thinks that’s a bit of a strange thing to say. He wouldn’t say he has a particular penchant for Drew’s hair.

“Aye. I mean, look – your hand’s in my hair right now.”

Wade looks. So it is. It’s probably been leisurely stroking through his boyfriend’s hair for the last half hour, actually. He snatches it away, opting for his hand to rest in his lap instead.

“See! Told you. Think you love my hair more than you love me.” Drew pouts, and even though it’s done in jest, Wade still can’t help but lean down to kiss him just so he’ll stop teasing about it.

It’s a subconscious movement, the way his hands roam to Drew’s shoulders, up into his hair again. Wade can tell that Drew’s smirking when he does it, so he deepens the kiss so as not to get any more cheeky comments.

When Drew speaks next, his voice is low and his grin roguish. “There are other parts of me to pay attention to as well, you know.”

Wade smirks. That, he does know.

He especially knows it later, when they share a shower before going to bed that evening. His hands work their way all over Drew’s body: kneading at Drew’s back, stroking down his torso, finding their way back up again, and...

“Suppose you wanna wash my hair, don’t you?”

Wade glares – fondly, though – and he’s met with a smirk. But he _does_ want to, so he’s not going to pass up the opportunity. He reaches over to the shower rack for the shampoo, squeezing some of the liquid out onto his hand before rubbing it into Drew’s hair. He’s gentle as he works it in, extra careful not to get any in Drew’s eyes as it’s rinsed out.

“Come on. Let me do you now.”

Of course, it takes monumentally less time for Drew to rub the shampoo in, and they trade places so Wade can stand under the water to rinse it out.

“Thanks,” Wade murmurs, and he draws Drew closer to him for a kiss, surprisingly not tangling his hands in Drew’s hair again – but that can wait for when he’ll be drying Drew’s hair off afterwards, obviously. And then it will be just the right kind of soft for Wade to run his fingers through.

 

Drew’s dozed off in Wade’s lap on the couch the next time Wade actually finds himself aware of the attention he’s paying to Drew’s hair. He’s so calm, so peaceful like this, his hair fanned out over Wade’s lap the way it is. It makes it especially easy to just fall into him, to drop a hand down and start delving through like combing a beach for treasure. (Wade doesn’t think he’ll be needing to do that, though: Drew is the real treasure here.)

So it’s not like Wade can stop himself from letting his fingers thread through Drew’s hair and just taking a lock to...

“Are you _braiding my hair_?” Drew grins up from his place in Wade’s lap a few minutes later, eyes still closed.

“ _No!_ A-absolutely not.” Wade, indignant, drops the lock of hair that he absolutely _had_ been absentmindedly weaving into a plait. It falls across Drew’s face, and he opens his eyes when it hits him.

“Aha! It’s a fucking _plait_.” He picks up the braid to inspect it, laughing a little. Wade doesn’t even have to look into the mirror to know that he’s gone red – or, more like fucking _maroon_ , probably.

“Give it here and let me take it out,” he mutters, but Drew just pulls away.

“ _No_ , I like it. Very nice work, Wade.” He flicks his hair out of his face and pretends to preen a little. “Think I’m going to keep this in for now.”

“But you will take it out later, won’t you?” They’re going out later, meeting up with friends. Wade can’t imagine Drew wanting to go out with a _braid_ in his hair.

“Oh, definitely not. This is staying right here and you can’t stop me.”

Wade doesn’t, expecting that Drew _is_ going to take it out. He’s not sure why he ever doubts his boyfriend’s stubbornness.

Everyone who asks about it gets a candid “Wade did it,” in response and Wade flushes scarlet. Drew only grins and gives Wade’s hand a squeeze.

(They get home and the tiny braid ends up unravelled as soon as Wade’s hands have been at it for long enough. He doesn’t do it on purpose necessarily, but it’s difficult for it not to happen when he’s just – just so _compelled_ to touch and tug and tangle his fingers in Drew’s hair that he ends up keeping his hands there almost all the while: encouraging and affectionate as Drew works on him from his place knelt in front of where Wade sits on the bed, then roughly pulling it back when Drew is whimpering and moaning beneath him on the mattress.)

They lazily curl into each other afterwards, Wade still at Drew’s hair, unable to help himself.

“You _do_ have a fixation and a half there,” Drew says with a smug smirk and a half laugh, and he snuggles into Wade a little more.

“Maybe I do,” Wade only half admits, and this time he ruffles Drew’s hair instead. He’s just proving Drew’s point, really.

“Maybe?” Drew looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Probably, then.” – another pointed look – “Definitely? Will that do?”

“Considering that it’s the truth, aye. It will.”

“I just... I just like that you have long hair, you know?” The only way to describe the way he says it is absolutely _hopeless_. He’s been defeated, and Drew knows it.

“I do know. You make it _very_ obvious.” Again, Drew leans in closer, and next time he speaks his voice is soft. “I like you liking it, though.”

“Of course you do. You’re always encouraging me. I’d say _your_ thing for having me playing with your hair is just as big as my thing for it in the first place.”

Now Drew seems like he’s the one who’s trying to deny: he presses his face into Wade’s chest some more but it can’t hide his smile – the one that tells Wade he’s correct, that has the hand that had almost managed to creep away from Drew’s hair back there again and likely to stay there until they fall asleep.


End file.
